Malacissation
by Felicity G. Silvers
Summary: Loki might have underestimated just how much food there was in the Midgardian city of New York. At least it explained the wicked gleam in Tony's eye when Tony bet him that he could not eat one of everything the city had to offer. Loki had nearly bested fire in an eating contest, but the thought was cold comfort next to how predatory Tony's smile got when Loki accepted the bet.(pwp)


I wrote a really depressing chapter of another story. I decided to let off some steam. I was really craving some stuffed Loki fic involving cheesecake.

I might have bit off more than I could chew.

All the same, I'm very happy with this. Tumblr followers, you know who you are. You are horrible enablers. Stop it.

_malacissation - to make supple, pliant_

* * *

"_Stark_."

"C'mon, _science_," Tony said, grinning wide at Loki. "You're nearly done."

Loki sighed heavily, letting his eyes-half drop closed and head loll on his shoulder.

"Besides," Tony added, one hand toying with the hem of Loki's shirt, pushing it further up to reveal more of his stomach, "you know the magic word."

"Hardly magic," Loki grumbled, but it was half-hearted at best. "I'm _full_."

"I bet." Tony gave him another wide grin, amber eyes gleaming sharp as cut glass, and shifted where he straddled Loki's leg. "Open up, buttercup."

"Do no—mmff." He cut off, glaring at Tony. Tony's fingers lingered at his lips as he chewed and swallowed the cheesecake, other hand resting on the taut swell of Loki's stomach.

"This is hardly for science," Loki added dryly.

Tony chuckled, leaning in and breath brushing against Loki's lips, grinding against Loki's leg. Through the haze of contentment and _full_, Loki could see _hunger_ in Tony's eyes, want, and though he felt far too full to move (more than even attempting to outeat fire, _how_ did humans have so much _food_) he slid his hands up Tony's sides, desire flickering low and slow beneath his skin.

"Stark science," Tony said against his lips, then kissed him—lingering, slick, _hot_, teeth dragging over Loki's bottom lip as he pulled away. Loki tried to lean forward and follow, tried to grind up in want of _friction_, and instead found himself hampered by his overfull stomach. He felt like little more than one of Midgard's whales propped against the pile of pillows at the head of the bed, Tony running circles around him.

Except.

Except Tony (and wasn't it always _except Tony_? not that he'd ever say), breathing heavily against his neck between red-blooming kisses, erection hard against his thigh, hands running over his stretched skin as if there were nothing more fascinating, more _desirable_, than Loki, like this, beached upon the bed and pliant only because anything else was too much _effort_. Under Tony's attentions, the low-flare of desire flared, burned brighter—Tony's teeth digging into his neck, Tony's fingers digging into his skin, Tony's breath, _Tony_—until Loki gave a frustrated growl and grabbed onto Tony's hips, tried to grind up against him to little avail with how they were situated.

"Let me help you with that," Tony murmured, smirking against the join of neck and shoulder, a hand dipping lower, rubbing his knuckles against Loki's cocked still trapped in his pants. Long since loosened (was that around finishing all the pastas? he couldn't recall), but not off, not yet. Leaning his head into Tony's, he gave an undignified whine, rocking his hips up minutely into Tony's touch. Tony chuckled again, biting and sucking on the curve of his neck as he rubbed a slow line up and down (for once Tony setting the pace, because Loki could not, and restlessness buzzed through Loki that he would not go _faster_).

He slid a hand beneath Tony's shirt to drag his nails down Tony's back as the other curled and tugged sharply on his hair; Tony hissed, hips stuttering, and palmed Loki's erection firmly, rougher, in retaliation—_yes_. He panted, rocking into Tony's touch, so close _close_ to what he wanted and yet so far, frustratingly, only enough to stir his blood and try to tug Tony closer—_closer_. Tony bit his shoulder, the hand on his belly pressing steady and hard so he felt another rush of dizzy _overfullness_ that made a moan slip from his lips before he could stop it.

"Fuck," Tony swore, yanking his head so he slipped Loki's grip _again_, and Loki nearly snarled, nearly, but Tony was staring at him with pupils blown wide, gaze sweeping over him and making warmth coil from the base of his spine to his crown. Sliding down, spreading his legs, Loki gave Tony a toothy grin (as if he did not _feel_ caught between aroused and awkward, like a boy, and _how_ did this mortal manage to keep finding ways to make him feel this way?). Tony rode the shift, smile soft in return, hand pushing Loki's shirt the rest of the way up so the whole of his stomach was bared to the warm air, so swollen he looked he might give birth.

"I thought fucking was the _idea_," Loki said, rutting against the hand at his cock, arching a brow.

Tony laughed, a soft huff of exasperation that Loki very nearly loved. The hand at his stomach pressed, again, firm and easy, and Loki felt the _shift_ beneath his skin, vibration and magic and physiology twining together to adjust for the pressure, dizzy and breathless and sawing between pleasant and painful _just so_ that he didn't notice Tony freeing his cock until clever-quick fingers were rubbing the slit, spreading precome down the length.

"You're _face_ when I do that," Tony said, almost reverent; Loki opened his eyes again, trying to glare, but his breath was fast, heavy, and he could not stop how his hips kept trying to tilt into Tony's hand that _still_ only teased his cock, fingers brushing down the underside to the oversensitive base, _almost_ dipping lower, _almost_, Tony _knew_—if he wasn't wet before he _certainly_ was now, dripping and hot between his thighs so his pants were uncomfortable and needed changing, biology seduced by food and comfort and ease to simply _sprawl_—

"Stark," Loki said, breathier than he meant, before pleading, "_Tony—_"

"I want to fuck you like this," Tony said matter-of-factly, gripping Loki's cock and stroking, always pausing at the base, paying _attention_ to differences in their biology, and Loki's blood blazed need and want and _fuck_ until he shook, scent leaking through his pants, heady. Whined, because Tony kept stroking low but not quite _low enough._ "I want to wring you dry and eat you out, and then fuck you so all you are is full of me," and Tony's hand on his stomach pressed again, a reminder of _Tony's_ food, offered up, fed to _him_. Of _worship_, Tony's worship, heady, sweeter than even water after crossing the desert, worship offered him readily as no one else could. "Every inch of you," Tony swore.

"Then _hurry up_," Loki snarled, hands tearing into the bed sheets, trying to spread more, white ache between his legs _maddening_.

Tony only grinned, all teeth, eyes dark.

"Whatever you want, princess," and before Loki could hiss at the word, Tony's fingers slipped lower to where the nerves were most sensitive, where the base of his cock met the top of his cunt, pressed and stroked and rubbed against the flesh so he arched, hoarse howl torn from his throat.

"—get the edge off," Tony was saying, then his hand wrapped around Loki's cock, pumped; Loki sobbed, torn between his body's extremes, felt the sheets tear beneath his hands, see-sawing between _fuck fuck fuck_ and _fuck me fuck me_ even as Tony coached and prodded and whispered words half tease and all worship—_look at you, look how wet you are, you should see yourself why haven't I put mirrors in here yet_—until his cock won and he came, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

(through him, thrumming and humming and singing: _worship_, awe, Tony's awe and _love_ unspoken, Tony's words grown incomprehensible but drank greedily, drunkenly, head spinning)

He had not entire come back to himself before Tony tugged his pants off, tossing them aside and crawling between his thighs, hands human hot as they ran up his legs. Loki shifted, slid further down now than before, not able to see over his stomach's curve and _annoyed_ (upset, upset, because how else to know what Tony thought than his face, to be sure it was not twisted fascina—) when Tony laced one hand in his; the contact was a spark, a clarity of thought that he was struggling to keep in post-orgasmic afterglow that had decided to join the food in his stomach in laying him low and pliant and nearly _supple_, so even his worry was difficult to keep hold of.

"I will never get over how _wet_ you get," Tony said, muffled, fingers parting his labia. "And the _smell_."

Before Loki could stiffen, before the words and what they _might_ mean could slide into his thoughts, Tony leaned in, _licked_—hot wet tongue against his own slick, different, and Loki settled and sighed. He let his legs fall further apart, one hand laced with Tony's, other reaching to twine in his hair as Tony took his own feast. Kisses and light graze of teeth and tongue dipping—but not quite _enough_—fingers teasing at the edges of his cunt without ever going further, _infuriating. _He tried grinding down and was left dizzy by the shift of his weight; Tony laughed, huff of air, said words warm against Loki's flesh and too muffled to understand, but oh how they _sang_ in his bones, sank through the skin to soul. Tony pressed two fingers in, _deep_, and Loki moaned, shuddering, cunt clenching tight around them as Tony fingered him through at the slow pace Loki could manage, licking and sucking around his fingers.

Tony tugged at their joined hands; Loki let go and the hand played over his stomach, lines and—_sweet Norns, runes_, runes of devotion and ecstasy and prayer-hymn-_love_, and distantly, distantly, he realized he was moaning loud in the air, grinding desperately down onto Tony's face and fingers. One hand pulled at Tony's hair, other gripping tight to the pillows. He felt afire, alight, _incandescent_ as Tony hummed into him, skin stretched and physical forced thin for the grace Tony licked and pressed in with his fingers, words hummed against his cunt that made him shudder and sob for release still _still _just barely out of reach—

Tony crooked his fingers to press against the bundle of nerves inside of him and Loki _shrieked_ to rend the heavens, orgasm wrenched from him in a white wave, tidal and all-consuming.

He had no idea how long it was before he came back to himself this time, still half-grinding against Tony's face, both Tony's hands moved to smooth against his shaking thighs. As Loki stilled, Tony chuckled and leaned up, face and beard glistening as he licked his lips, eyes soft as he looked at Loki.

"With me, Loki?" Tony asked, gentle beneath the teasing.

"Mm," Loki hummed, closing his eyes and resting an arm across his face. Need and desire were burned low, embers near going out, _sated_ deep in his bones and soul both.

Tony laughed, sliding his hands up to Loki's belly and pressing, just lightly, against.

"Tony," Loki whined, trying to shift away, and Tony stopped, pressing a kiss to the apex of his stomach.

"Okay, okay." He could hear Tony moving, rustle of cloth on beard as he wiped his face, felt the bed dip as Tony moved from between his legs before he pushed against Loki's hip. "Come on, let's get you on your side."

"I am _comfortable_," Loki said, haughty as he could manage, trying to open his eyes and finding them too heavy, lethargy pushed aside returned, _heavier_, wet cloak smothering what heat he had left.

"I know you are, but we're not done. Come on, there's no way I'm going to fuck you while you're on your back, you'd be miserable and _I_ want to touch." Loki opened one eye to examine Tony from underneath his arm, but Tony was being sincere. Of course he was.

"_Fine_," Loki huffed and pushed himself, trying to twist over. Callouses pressed into his hips, sides, as Tony helped him move (found himself wondering _again_ what it was Tony found so _desirable_ about him so full), pillows rearranged.

He did not admit he found this more comfortable as his weight settled, more able to breathe, more soothing as he drew his knees up. Tony spooned against the curve of his back and fingers tracing mindless swirls over his flesh.

"You're gorgeous like this," Tony whispered into his skin, honest and sincere as he only was when Loki could not see him. Loki shivered.

"You are utterly," he started dryly, but Tony was rolling away for a moment and before Loki could stop a deep and forlorn sound escaped from his chest, because he was comfortable, but it was Tony's all too human heat pressed in his back that _made_ it so.

"I'm here," Tony said, at least _aware_ not to mock Loki for the sound, rolling back over and spooning against him again. His fingers slid over Loki's hip, wrapped around his mostly soft cock and stroked a few times. Loki twitched half-heartedly, could feel his cock at least growing interested if not fully hard, not achingly _needy_ as he had been.

"_Tony_," Loki said, petulant and whining and not _caring_ (because he could be this with Tony, could risk this ridiculousness and not have it held against him later, used to belittle him, a sign of _weakness_), "I'm _tired_."

Tony paused a moment, breath brushing against the back of Loki's neck, then pressed a kiss to the skin.

"That so?" he asked. "Anything you need?"

(A question—_do I need to stop?_ with an easy answer, _lemonade,_ if he chose to give it (because Loki had tried lemonade and despised it so strongly that Tony could not help dissolving into laughter when it was brought up, and if Loki needed to stop he'd rather Tony be distracted by laughter than Loki's own limits))

"No," Loki said, savouring the question, savouring his answer—savouring the _control_ innate in this position, which so rarely he allowed himself be put into (and at least it answered why _Tony_ did not mind that so often their roles were reversed when Tony hated not to be in control; there was control, in the… _trust_ they placed in each other, and he thought, perhaps, he might not mind to try this again.)

But Tony had little idea what thoughts drifted through Loki's head, smiling and scraping his teeth over the top of Loki's spine, getting a knee between Loki's legs to part them. Loki moved obligingly, offering a physical invitation if not verbal. Tony's fingers stroked steadily and evenly at the base of his cock, sometimes sliding lower and into his cunt, sometimes higher to rub calloused fingers over his cock's head, until Loki was panting softly, eyes closed and reveling in the sensation, rocking into the touch.

Not need, no, not like before, but still _desire_.

Tony shifted closer and they both adjusted (_nearly_ in sync). Tony chuckled against his skin as his cock rubbed between the lips of Loki's cunt, laughter at Loki's annoyed huff, before the head of Tony's cock slid inside, _Tony_ slid inside, thick and hard and brand hot. For a moment, they paused, Tony's arms wrapping around him, pleased purr deep in Loki's throat.

"_Fuck_," Tony swore, rocking minutely into Loki; Loki pushed back, soft pants filling the air. Tony hugged him close (pressed against his stomach) and Loki shuddered, dizzy, clenching tight around Tony. "Fuck," Tony repeated, hand smoothing over his stomach before reaching for his cock, beginning to stroke him in time with his thrusts. "_Loki_."

"Tony," Loki panted, tilting his head back. Tony pressed kisses into his skin, moved faster, hungrier, _demanding_, and Loki nearly _sobbed_ as Tony sped up, _nearly_, because in Tony's speed and roughness his cock kept hitting against the nerves inside he'd so deftly crooked his fingers against earlier. Pleased growl vibrating against Loki's skin, Tony did it again, again, _maddening_ and heat-white and _tension. _Reaching down, Loki wrapped a hand around where Tony's was on his cock, trying to urge him faster, urge him to match the pace Tony's thrusts set, but Tony didn't, _wouldn't_ (_knew_ how heady and dizzy and _too much_ Loki found the out of step tempo); it was if being pulled apart, _again_, Tony's teeth a sudden sharp sensation as they dug into his neck, marking, _claiming_ (overfed and watered, _safe_, provided for, tangle of biology and emotion and _desire_—

"Come on, Loki," Tony growled in his ear, "come on, come on, come, let go, come for me—come _on_," and he thrust up as his hand stroked down, letting go to press where they were joined, pressure live-wire, electric, snapping into a bow of current between the bite mark on his neck and where Tony was buried inside him. Loki's back arched, hands trying to find purchase on the bed, the pillows, moaning, shoving back against Tony and in his ear Tony hissed a sharp "_Yes_" as Loki orgamsed, clenching tight around Tony's cock, Tony achingly hot inside of him as he grunted and spilled with shallow thrusts until finally, finally, they both lay shuddering on the bed, Tony's forehead resting in the space between his shoulders and softening cock slipping free.

Stillness.

Tony lifted his head, pressing a kiss between Loki's shoulder blades, hand sliding up to rub slow circles against his stomach. Loki only sighed, languid lassitude slipping through his limbs, keeping his eyes closed as Tony kept pressing kisses to his spine.

The bed shifted as Tony sat up (for a towel, most likely Loki thought hazily, already slipping to doze), then paused. Loki cracked an eye open, turning his head slightly to look at Tony, but Tony only kept staring, hand still resting on Loki's stomach. "Gorgeous," Tony said, and Loki offered a slip of a smirk.

"Of course," Loki said, haughty.

Tony laughed, pushing himself away from the bed, and Loki closed his eyes again—just a moment, until Tony returned, burying his face against a pillow.

Except eyes shut but a moment turned into waking up with a start at the feel of a hand on his hip and damp towel against his skin. Tony glanced at him and chuckled at the bleary confusion he tried to blink away; just as his vision cleared, Tony leaned up, kissing him slowly, soft, and Loki hummed contentment.

Off-balance as Tony was, it was easy to tug him down, wrapping his arms around Tony's middle and burying his face against his chest so the cool hum of the arc reactor dug into his cheek. Tony laughed, stroking a hand through his hair as he tossed the towel away. Loki wanted to hum, to purr, exhausted enough to consider it—oh how he loved Tony's laughter, how it kept drawing him back

"You're sweet like this," Tony commented.

"All the sugar," Loki said, only it was a slur, words muffled and tripping together, and he wasn't entire sure Tony could understand them.

"I should get you fat and happy more often."

Loki snorted, but he did not open his eyes, hooking a leg over Tony's instead so he most _certainly _could not slip his grasp as he had before.

"Hey, hey, no you're going to crush me!" Tony protested as Loki moved more of his weight onto Tony, going boneless, starting to slip back to doze.

"Should have that thought of that before you gambled I could not eat one of everything in your stupid city."

"Well you didn't, there's still half that slice of cheese cake left."

Loki snorted, settling more comfortably around Tony. He could picture Tony's particularly sappy smile as the other man ran a hand through his hair again.

"Diva," Tony said, fond, as close as he ever came to calling Loki _love_.

"I think you mean yourself," Loki mumbled automatically, tired, _content_, falling asleep to the weight of Tony's arm around his shoulders and sound of Tony's quiet chuckle.


End file.
